(In memory of my sister, Elva Phillips-Thomas)
O Mortality,
tyrannical in your finality,
that feeds and thrives on fleshly frailty,
you nursery of fearful man’s misgivings,
afflicter alike of paupers and kings,
from time immemorial you have oppressed,
lo, your curse has cowered even the blessed
since crawling sin first reared its ugly head
in Eden Garden and innocence died
when Adam, trembling, heard God’s awesome tread
and with fig leaf covered and tried to hide.
Then Eve gave birth in pain and mankind bled
when Cain, with sinful stone, struck Abel dead,
God of his whereabouts did enquire;
abashed and unrepentant, Cain’s reply,
non-confessed, “Am I my brother’s keeper?”
deceptive stratagem, guilt did belie.
O Mortality,
some say the sin of disobedience,
when Eve, then Adam, gave acquiescence…
the Serpent with the apple and the lie
unleashed you with, “Thou shall not surely die!”
to wreak your tribulation and your woe
on man and lesser beings here below
till Adam’s Seed should bruise your hoary head
and smote your grand design on Calv’ry cross;
before the Christ your victory has fled
“O Death where is your sting?” Here is your loss,
for in your greed, your lust to destroy all,
therein lay, ultimately, your downfall,
to underestimate redemption plan,
the greatest love, the greatest sacrifice
of God’s covenant, ere the fall of man,
that with lifeblood His Son would pay the price.
O Mortality,
your devastation be but for a time,
on mortal flesh you wreak your deadly crime;
so carry on your carnage till that Day
of Judgement when the Lord of All shall say,
“O Death where is thy sting? Release my saints!”
and henceforth banish your dreadful constraints,
together with the Serpentine Liar,
the author of deceit and temptation,
forever in the flames of hellfire,
you tyrant, to final conflagration.
For dread as you are in your affliction,
bow you shall before the resurrection
and, hugging sin, shall fall upon your knees;
then prostrate you will lie upon the ground,
cremated corpse with every foul disease,
for paradise shall once again be found.
O Mortality,
tyrannical in your finality,
that feeds and thrives on fleshly frailty,
your ashes shall be flung to the four winds
and henceforth vanish from immortal minds.
Copyright ©2001 by G. Newton V. Chance
- G. NEWTON V. CHANCE
- George Newton Vivian Chance (Trinidad and Tobago) -- member of the Poet Society of Trinidad and Tobago, http://poetssocietytt.blogspot.com/ and the World Poets Society, http://world-poets.blogspot.com/ -- born in Tobago on 3rd March 1957. While residing at Rio Claro was inspired to write over a hundred poems at the turn of the Millennium. Hobbies include playing wind instruments, building computers, observing nature, reading and writing poetry. Believes that the power of a song is in its ability to evoke emotions by the marriage of lyric and music but that music without lyric can be just as powerful, that lyric without music can also be just as powerful, that there is music in the lyric and that lyric can be simple yet profound. Also, in this the age of computers, would like to model his lines after simple and efficient code and, analogous to Object Oriented Programming, achieve most of his imagery from nouns and verbs, avoiding the bloat and excess of unnecessary adjectives. This is what he aspires to attain in his poetry.
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